


I'd Like To Order a Husband, Please

by snarkstark



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Artist Steve Rogers, Clint cannot flirt when it comes to Tony, Clint-centric, Falling In Love, First Meetings, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Love at First Sight, M/M, MIT Tony, Sassy Tony, There's not enough IronHawk in the world, They own a coffee shop and it's dorky, barista clint, coffee shop AU, pure fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-06
Updated: 2017-12-14
Packaged: 2018-10-28 20:39:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10839033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snarkstark/pseuds/snarkstark
Summary: Clint leant over the counter, the rush hour not enough to stop him from leering at the young man who'd just entered the store. He was achingly beautiful, vibrating with energy, and his laugh was enough to light up the whole shop as he read one of the cartoons on the wall.Now was the time for his pick-up line... Cute and funny. Simple."I think I'm going to marry you." A pause, "Yes. I think I will."





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> There's not enough IronHawk in the world, so I'm gonna try and fix it :)

Clint leant over the counter, the rush hour not enough to stop him from leering at the young man who'd just entered the store. The face struck a vaguely familiar chord in the back of his mind, but more important was the way he was achingly beautiful, vibrating with energy, and his laugh was enough to light up the whole shop as he read one of the cartoons on the wall. 

_Mine,_ Clint decided. 

Even at busy times, the shop was quiet enough, being tucked away close to the MIT campus so that only the most fortunate and dedicated coffee lovers and explorers would stumble across it. It was a geeky little place, run by himself, Steve, Bucky and Natasha, none of which had cared much for traditional schooling and decided 'fuck it'. The top floor became a place to the four of them. Natasha was all business, Steve's art made a home on the walls and provided an extra income when he felt like it, and Bucky had the dark charm that had customers coming back over and over. Speaking of the man, Clint glanced around to make sure he wasn't around.

Like he said, this one was all his. 

Now, all he had to do was think of an original and funny pick-up line that would have this guy falling at his feet and begging for his number. That should be easy, right? After all, that's what Clint brought to the table. His legendary comedic talent, his gorgeous looks, and his high intelligence. 

Well, and he was the only one of them who had extensive knowledge and love for coffee before this whole thing started, but that probably wasn't it. 

The guy had finally looked his fill at the superhero comic on the wall near the doorway, a painted version of one of Steve's favourite works featuring Captain America (which was totally just Steve, the patriotic bastard). Slowly, over time, he had developed a team, too. 

Gee, Clint sure did wonder where he got the ideas for that one. His superhero persona was Hawkeye, talented marksman and lazy shitbag. Well, that did about sum him up. Appropriately, Natasha was the deadly super spy, Bucky was the dark assassin, and some of their other friends had made an appearance, too. Their quiet Bruce Banner, who Steve had turned into the Hulk to make them laugh since the real thing couldn't be more passive aggressive if he tried. Thor, their booming next-door-neighbour, who worked as a personal trainer, was instantly deemed a God because of the name. 

There was another member of the team, though. Iron Man. The genius with the showy suit and smart mouth, who's identity had yet to be revealed. There was a pile of Steve's comics on the counter for sale, right now, and they had been getting increasingly popular lately, which was awesome. They all knew that Steve loved the cafe, but art was his passion, and now that he was making a real income from it? He was over the moon. The smug dick wouldn't even tell them who it was either, no matter how they'd begged. Steve was a little too good at his job, Clint thought as he flicked the pile of comics; he was dying to know what happened next along with basically anyone who walked through the door. 

He stood up straighter when the man had finally circled the whole room, admiring all the pop-art and fine brush work, and had sauntered over to the counter. 

His honey eyes sparkled with amusement at having found this place, and he offered Clint a grin. "So, you have art with a character so relatable that I almost died, free wifi, and cute staff. What d'you recommend I have to drink?" He asked, his head tilting slightly like a puppy dog.

This guy was fucking adorable. 

Now was the time for his pick-up line... Cute and funny. Simple. 

"I think I'm going to marry you." A pause, "Yes. I think I will." 

Silence. 

"What the fuck?" 

_Oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no._ Cute guy now had a slightly offended, confused crinkle between his eyebrows, and looked much more guarded than he did a second ago. "Listen -" Oh God, his voice was like melted chocolate. 

"Coffee!" Clint interrupted, beginning to panic, "You look like a sweet guy. I- I mean, a guy who likes sweet things! Not that... not that you're not probably a sweet guy... and, uh, y'know..."

Jesus Christ, sure he wasn't always Mr Sauve, but never had he been such a stuttering fucking mess. He had already fucked it up, and now Honey Eyes was looking at him with that half-concerned, unsure look like he was wondering if Clint was mentally challenged. This was so not what Hawkeye would do. He managed to compose himself.

"Hey, why don't you take a seat? I'll make you my speciality." Thank God, the other looked slightly more relaxed now that he'd seen Clint could actually formulate sentences, and nodded wearily, taking a seat in the farthest corner of the shop and pulling out a laptop that was so beautiful and sleek it was little more than faintly glowing screens, and a thin, blue keyboard. 

Okay. 

He was a fucking idiot. 

But it was okay! It would be okay. Time for plan B: impress him so much with the coffee that he would dare to come back, even though the creepy barista had tried to marry him. 

Clint flew around behind the counter. Nothing on the menu was good enough, not for the first time he ever came here. Clint needed something new. Within a few minutes, he was finished. He sure hoped the world was ready for a toasted marshmallow latte. It was creamy, with gooey marshmallow melting into the froth, chocolate syrup and mini marshmallows in the bottom of the cup. It kind of sounded gross but when he tasted it? Heaven. 

Taking a few breaths so that he didn't mess it up for good, Clint brought the drink over to the guy's table. Those eyes flickered up to meet his own and regarded him with caution. "What is it?" 

"Toasted marshmallow latte. Just trust me." He hovered, rocking on his heels while the guy tried his handiwork. 

"Fine, as long as you promise not to pop the question after." The guy teased him, a smirk on his face. As soon as he raised the cup to his mouth, though, his face relaxed into pure bliss.

"How does it taste?"

"Like..." The Cutie's face scrunched up while he gathered the words. He didn't just say, 'good' or 'nice. He was totally the one, "Like, one time I went camping with my butler Jarvis while my parents were away. And we ate smores around the fire, and you could see all the stars, clear as day. He told me that he didn't care whether I become a great man, but he would always make sure I became a good one." Clint could feel his heartbreak at the desperately sad, reminiscent look in the brunet's eyes. 

"Aww, cute guy, no." The barista whined, sitting down across from him, "I made you coffee to impress you and all I did was make you sad." He watched the other shake himself and scrape up a smile. 

"You sure don't hold back, do you? So what, you proclaim your love to every attractive guy that walks through the door?" He asked sceptically. 

"Nope, just the one." 

_"Why?"_

"No clue." 

Huffing, the customer drank some more, allowing Clint to sit there and admire him, even though he kept throwing him 'you're insane' glances every now and then. Unfortunately, fate tore them apart in the form of Bucky yelling at him to, "Get your ass back here and do your job, jackass!"

"Asshole." 

At least it made Honey Eyes laugh. Sighing, he pushed his chair back. "Just for the record, my name is Clint." He stated. 

"Sure you don't wanna tell me your last name instead?" The guy teased him again, and Clint flushed, "I'm Tony. But I'm not telling you anything else about me because I don't want you breaking into my house at three am."

"I agree that I do need to work on my flirting."

Tony's voice dripped with sarcasm, "You don't say." He was a sassy little fuck, then. 

"Hey, I'd like to see you do better, short-stack." 

In an instant, Tony was pressed against his side, his lips close to Clint's ear and his eyes full of mischief. "Why bother? You're already hooked." He murmured, and Clint thought he was going to pass out. His future-husband burst out into loud, brilliant laughter, amused by the stunned look on the shop owner's face. 

"See you around, Clint." The shorter man picked up his fancy laptop and left, without looking back. 

Clint was _fucked._


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony returns and Clint has no idea why.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *updates 728191 years too late with a Starbucks*

Clint proceeded to spend the next two days sulking in an annoyingly Tony-free coffee shop. 

As soon as he had left, it had felt as if all the lights had turned off. He slumped over the counter and groaned, berating himself for completely ruining his only chance at getting the most adorable guy he'd ever seen. Way to get the guy, is he right? Propose to him, fumble around like a clutz, then sit there staring at him like a total creep. 

He was interrupted when he felt a sharp pain in his ass and bolted up with a cry. Natasha smirked at him, offending dish towel in her guilty hands. "Stop whining, _luchik_ ". She scolded, "You are an idiot. But a sweet one. He will come back."  
"He won't," Clint whined petulantly, "I scared him off."

Two days later, Clint Barton lost twenty bucks.

"Tony!" The bartender's voice was a few octaves too high as he watched Tony Stark enter the shop, followed by a stunning strawberry blonde. His heart sank at the sight of her, the way their shoulders brushed as they walked side by side toward the window table. The young brunet was pointing to the art on the walls, gesturing to Iron Man in particular. He finally acknowledged Clint, waving at him with a kilowatt smile. Somehow he grappled about and dragged one up to return to the other boy. 

Yanking out his phone to smash in the message, 'mission abort - why did we think he was single?!' to Natasha, he was interrupted before send. "So, you want to marry Tony?" A calm, though deadly voice cooed. His head flicked up so fast that he got whiplash, assessing Tony's girlfriend. 

"Are you related to a 'Natasha'?" He quizzed, slightly afraid of their similarity. 

"Answer the question, coffee boy."

Well, fuck. There went his diversion tactics. 

"Okay, listen. I'm sure that you'll agree that your boyfriend happens to be a good looking individual. You know, I say 'good looking' when I mean that he's the singular most gorgeous person I've ever laid my eyes on and would probably pay for that kind of view. But, y'know, I wasn't aware that he was -"

Pepper Potts took mercy on the stuttering soul in front of her. 

"He's not my boyfriend, idiot." 

Clint stared.

She stared back. 

"Ca-Can I have him?"

"Nothing to do with me, is it?" She gave him the kind of look usually reserved for three legged dogs or confused children, before giving their order and returning to their table (no doubt to explain to Tony that he should let him down easy because he clearly wasn't all there). 

Clint deftly created the hazelnut latte and the scarily large jug of black coffee for the table of two, bringing it over and trying not to stare too obviously. His arrival interrupted their argument, or what was more aptly described as a lecture. Pepper clearly thought Tony needed to sleep more and going by the suitcases under the boy's eyes and the unfocused look in his eyes, Clint had to agree. "Wake up, sunshine." He greeted, cheerfully, filling his mug. 

"Hey, husband." Tony's voice was surprisingly soft as he wrapped his hands protectively around the mug, drawing it close as if someone would snatch it away. Clint had to bite back his 'aw'. 

"You look dead, Tony." Clint snickered, earning a glare.

"Charming." The other griped back, swiping at him with a jumper that was so atrociously big on him that he couldn't possibly be the real owner. 

"As always," Clint replied with a mock salute, relieved he hadn't managed to do something stupid and knock over a table yet. Perhaps it was because Tony, while no less gorgeous, was a lot less intimidating when he was half-awake, snuggled into the corner of his booth seat and drowning in red material. 

Deciding to back away before it was too late, Clint returned to lurking behind the counter and serving a few more orders, deleting his unsent text with great satisfaction. 

The two sat in the corner, chatting animatedly and arguing, though nothing too serious, and at one point Tony practically bounced out of his chair ranting about something while Pepper looked like she wanted to blow her brains out. Not that Clint was watching them closely or anything. That would just be creepy. 

He happened to be cleaning tables when Pepper finally stood up to exit the shop, leaving Tony with a kiss on the cheek and a pat on the head. The guy himself sulked once she left, pulling out a phone that made him stop and stare. It was more like a pane of glass, maybe a few centimetres thick, shrouding his face in a barely noticeable blue glow. 

Ditching his rag, Clint slid into the booth. "Wassat?" He spoke too fast, fists clenched as he hoped Tony wouldn't mind talking to him. 

The other blinked at his sudden entry but shrugged, leaning forward. "It's a phone. I, uh, invented it, actually. That's why it looked so weird."

The barista baulked. "You... You actually fucking built that?"

Tony snickered at his no doubt hilarious expression and gestured to his sweater, which Clint now noticed had MIT stamped on it. "It's kind of my thing."

And the kicker? Tony couldn't possibly be more than seventeen years old.

"No," Clint stated firmly, leaning back and folding his arms. 

"Excuse me?" Tony's eyebrows wrinkled adorable in confusion and a slight sense of indignation. 

"You look like a double page spread from an Italian model magazine, you're hilarious and have scary red-heads looking out for you. Now you're a genius? Could you possibly be any more out of my league, Mister -" He hesitated, not knowing Tony's last name.

"Stark." The other supplied. 

_Well, fuck._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this is so late rip.  
> I hope you liked this! Comment your thoughts pls I read every comment and love replying to them!   
> (ps i seek validation so desperately)  
> chapter three anyone??  
> L


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh you thought i was dead????
> 
> me too

Clint didn't like to think of himself as a negative person. In fact, once he'd set his eyes on a goal, there was little to deter him from it. Since the day he'd suggested that the group of them open the coffee store, he had allowed nothing to deter them, no matter if the obstacle in question was financial, moral, or personal. But as he slumped over the counter, head in his hands, he officially resigned. 

Tony fucking Stark. 

Out of all the people, Clint could have thrown himself into love with, it just had to be someone so mind-numbingly out of his league that he shouldn't even get to speak to him, let alone marry him. The man was everything that anyone could hope to be - rich, famous, humorous and a genius. Clint had surely, upon falling for this boy, joined a waiting list a couple hundred thousand long. 

And this realisation begged the painful question: if Tony had this seemingly endless list of choices, then what on Earth would he want with Clint?

At the end of the day, no matter how much he joked about his charm and his looks, he was a near-penniless barista, and Tony probably had more change in his pockets than Clint was worth. It was a simple enough fact.

Then why did his heart hurt so profoundly in his chest?

"Morning." He heard the sound of heavy footsteps approaching from the spiral staircase that led upstairs to their living area, as Steve and Bucky both descended. 

He merely nodded in response, still mourning yesterday's events. 

"What's up with you?" Let it be said, Bucky was never one for subtlety. 

"He's probably mooning over Tony again." Steve pointed out, grinning as he tied his apron around his waist. 

"Hey, how did you kno-" Clint question was abruptly interrupted by a particularly violent bell ring. The shop's door had been flung open, and a rumpled heap stumbled in. Upon closer inspection, this crumpled heap appeared to be Tony. 

Billionaire genius his ass. 

The student was vaguely reminiscent of Bambi as he stumbled towards the counter, hair tussled and doe eyes wide and glazed over. "Coffee." He demanded plainly, his eyes switching between Steve and Bucky, "And uh," He spread his arms and Steve obligingly crossed the counter to fill them, lifting Tony from the ground in a tight hug. 

Clint lost it.

"What the actual fuck?"

Bucky and Steve turned to him quizzically. Tony was apparently too exhausted to even question it. "Clint," Steve started uncertainly, "Tony has been friends with Bucky and me for years. We went to the same high school, He stuck up for us back when I was a runt. Even though he was Mr Popularity, of course." Steve's voice was laced with such deep fondness, that Clint knew they weren't messing with him. 

Well, if he didn't have a chance before, his odds were somehow slimmer. 

"Did you think he just came here at random?" Bucky openly laughed at his facial expression, patting him on the shoulder. "You can stand down, we're not out to steal your man."

Muffled by Steve's shoulder, Tony re-iterated his request. "Coffee." 

Reluctantly, Clint moved to make the boy his drink, plain and black. He probably could've served him oil and he wouldn't notice. Steve had deposited the student in a booth, where he sprawled out, looking like he was about to pass out. Placing the cup gently at his elbow, Clint frowned. "Shouldn't you, maybe, sleep or something? I mean, I'm not a Doctor, but I think you're about to pass out."

Tony waved a dismissive hand in his direction and downed the drink, most likely burning his mouth in the process. "Shush. I'm almost done." From his pocket, he pulled out what was probably the crustiest piece of paper in the world, with what looked like a line of code on it. 

"Ouch, he's working on paper, Buck." Steve whistled.

"That's how you know he's been stuck for a long time," Bucky informed Clint. 

It sparked jealousy in him, though it shouldn't. He had thought Tony was his person, that maybe Tony had even been coming back here for him. Now he was only reminded that Steve and Bucky, apparently, knew all these things about Tony and he was stuck with the painful realisation that he knew nothing at all. 

Yet he seemed to know enough about Tony to be hopelessly in love with him. 

Suddenly, and without enough enthusiasm to pull Clint abruptly from his thoughts, Tony cried out. 

His hand flew across the paper, almost throwing itself across the page in its haste. It almost seemed as though it was moving on its own accord. 

The barely readable line of code brandished itself. "I did it. I fucking did it." Tony whispered under his breath, his eyes shiny with what was most likely tears. 

Of course, he promptly collapsed.

 

 

 

Let Clint set the record, for all those who teased him over the coming years, he didn’t _mean_ to be there when Tony woke up – he really didn’t! 

But, naturally, after he’d collapsed, Steve and Bucky had used their freakishly huge body mass to haul the fragile boy up the spiralling staircase into the flat. Clint, for lack of another task, had followed behind with a constant stream of worried babble, waving his hand in a particularly useless fashion, and craning his head over the other’s shoulders to peer at Tony with wide, concerned eyes.

They had settled him in Clint’s bed, since the bedroom that he and Natasha shared was closest. Tucked under the covers of the small single, Tony awoke with a groan, and the barista appropriately froze like a rabbit caught in headlights. He quietly set the glass of water in his hand down on the bedside dresser, watching with a terrified fascination as the mess of a boy groaned to himself, rolling over as if that took all of his remaining energy. 

His every movement slow and cautious, Clint took a step forward. 

“Here.” He picked up the glass, and held it to Tony’s lips. 

“I’m not a baby.” Tony wrinkled his nose once he had pulled away, “But thanks, I guess.” He added as an afterthought. His eyes were dusted with a layer of sleep, his features soft and sleepy, as if he’d woken up from a pleasant dream rather than an involuntary nap. Clint supposed his body had a right to be pleased with itself after finally getting some rest. 

All at once, in the most beautiful of reactions, it seemed that all of Tony’s systems came online.

“My paper. Where’s my paper?” He threw his hand out blindly, desperate to find the missing element. 

“Uh, wait here.” Clint soon retrieved it from where Steve had placed it, pressing it into his hand, and doing his utmost to ignore the fact their hands brushed together. God, he was such a stalker. 

“Tony?”

“Yeah?”

“What is that thing?”

“This?” Tony let a slow, satisfied smile light up his face, “This, Clint, is a line of code that’s going to revolutionise the world. Starting with my own Artificial Intelligence.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you guys enjoyed my first IronHawk fic! Please comment below if you'd like to see more of this, I feel like there's so much more to write!  
> Sorry that updates have been slower lately, exams are a bitch.   
> Comments are life,   
> L


End file.
